


The Needs of Lesser Creatures

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, pets have needs; Reek is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop; won't stop.  
> Thanks for the continued support.  
> Enjoy! <3  
> P.S. Join my Thramsay forum, link on my profile, thank you in advance! <3

Lord Ramsay’s chambers are particularly comfortable.  Much like his wardrobe, Ramsay outfitted his quarters in the reds and pinks of House Bolton.  The bed was made up with sheets woven from the finest silk and piled high with luxurious furs.  The pillows and mattress were stuffed with the softest feathers to cradle Ramsay’s large body.

The large fireplace dominated one wall and was always crackling cheerfully, now that winter had come.  On either side hearth hung large tapestries depicting knights engaged in battle, the flayed man displayed prominently upon their breasts and banners.  Other banners flew what looked suspiciously like large sheets of human skin, but maybe the artist had just included that because of the rumors about the Boltons, which had circulated the North for ages.

Ramsay’s collection of clothing was expansive and filled an ornate dresser and trunk, carved as a set to match the desk at which Ramsay currently sat.

Reek shared these chambers now, too, and more often than not, was allowed to enjoy some of their comforts.  He was proud of his progress; from defiant prisoner to kenneled dog to Lord Ramsay’s own bedwarmer and favorite pet.

This advancement hadn’t come without a price – Reek had paid many of those, a thousand times over.  His withered body, with its missing fingers and toes and innumerable scars and fresher bruises and cuts, was evidence enough of that.

But Reek no longer minded that.  Well, he did when Lord Ramsay was hurting him, but after truly it wasn’t so bad.  Sometimes Ramsay would even clean him up a little (never too much though, not enough to get rid of the smell).  And some types of pain weren’t even so bad…

He wasn’t even so ashamed of the twisted, malformed scar between his legs anymore.  It was Lord Ramsay’s gift to him, to remind him of his place. Now Reek could never have another, man or women, the way Lord Ramsay would have his way with Reek, and that was all right, that was as it should be.

Lord Ramsay had been so proud the first time Reek stood before him unclothed, without twisting his legs about and trying to cover his scars with his hands.  His lord has smiled and smiled, praising his Reek, complimenting him on how good he was.  Reek had even gotten a few sips of Ramsay’s wine that night.

Unfortunately, Lord Ramsay wasn’t smiling right now. In fact, he wasn’t paying Reek any mind at all.  Once, this might have meant a brief respite from pain, but right now the absence of Ramsay’s attentions was only serving to distress Reek.

Of course, it wasn’t that Reek didn’t understand why Lord Ramsay couldn’t attend to him right now; his lord had a wedding fast approaching, and, as future Lord of Winterfell, Ramsay had been ordered by his father to personally see to notifying the other Northern households of the upcoming nuptials.

Of course Reek understood!  His lord was a very important man with very important responsibilities.  Reek was just a dog, lower than a dog, even.  His needs shouldn’t even begin to register to Lord Ramsay, unless they happened to coincide with something Ramsay wanted as well.

But, Reek couldn’t deny, he did have needs, and right now a very particular one was making itself felt in the form of a tingling, tickling sensation that crept into his stomach and trickled downwards to nestle in the space between his legs, where it found nothing and only became more insistent.

Reek glanced at Ramsay.  He could only see his lord’s board back, where he sat at the desk, intent on finishing his letter writing.

To distract himself, Reek pulled on his collar, making it rub against the sore places where the leather had chafed against his skin. The pain was only slight; Reek had endured much, much worse.  He poked at some other bruises.  This would never do.  He loved his collar and the marks Ramsay bestowed upon him, but he needed something else right now. 

Reek sighed as quietly as he could; he shouldn’t be distracting.

Ramsay had left him on the bed when he set to his task. Reek carefully untangled his legs from the covers.  Sometimes it was difficult for him to recognize his extremities.  His skin was as pale as weirwood bark and he was so thin he could count every bone beneath his flesh.

Reek’s knees creaked as he extended his legs. Many days hanging on the cross and many hours spent on kneeling, pleasuring his lord, had done quite a number on the joints.  It was difficult to walk upright and Reek often fell.  Luckily, Lord Ramsay preferred to see him crawl.

Maybe, if Ramsay were to see him crawl now, he might be stirred from his place at his desk, to see to his Reek. Surely, his lord must need a break, and who better to take care of that need than his most faithful pet?

Reek has talked himself into it.  Ever so slowly, he eases himself off the bed and onto his feet.  Unaccustomed to supporting his own weight, his knees give out almost instantly, dropping Reek to the floor.  He bites his lip, hard, to keep from crying out as his knees smash into the floor, the blow only slightly softened by the plush Myrish carpets that cover the stone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is without a doubt going to be the sluttiest thing I've ever written...  
> Enjoy! <3

Reek freezes, stock-still, eyes fixed on Ramsay’s back.  His lord doesn’t stir, doesn’t give any indication that he is aware of his pet’s movements.  Reek second-guesses himself.  Maybe this is just asking for trouble.  Maybe Lord Ramsay really should be left alone; he is very busy.

Reek crouches on the ground, only moving when he is sure Ramsay is still engrossed in his letters.  He shifts until he is sitting on his bottom, rubbing his sore knees with shaky, mutilated hands. His remaining fingers flutter like pale moths against his skin.

As the aches fade, his desire rankles at him again.  Barely aware of it, Reek slides his hands slowly up his thighs. He watches intently at the movement of Ramsay’s vast shoulders—up and down, up and down—as he breathes. Ramsay is much larger than his diminutive Reek, and much stronger too.  One hand can hold both of Reek’s wrists above his head when they—

Reek shudders as his fingers brush against the scars between his legs.  He finds himself with his back against the bed, lays splayed wantonly out to each side.  His large but tattered shift, the only clothing he wears, is pushed up to his stomach.

Once, Reek reflects, in a time that feels very far away now, before he was himself, he would have known exactly what to do in this situation. He would have taken his cock in hand and stroked himself to climax…

Reek shakes his head to clear away such thoughts.  Those are treacherous things to contemplate.  He shouldn’t be so ungrateful to his Lord Ramsay, who has only treated him kindly, better than Reek deserved, truly. Maybe he needs to be punished. Ramsay hasn’t punished him in what?  A day, at least? Reek knows he needs constant reminders from his lord on how to behave properly.

He shouldn’t even enjoy being punished, but sometimes Reek can’t deny that he draws a certain pleasure from Ramsay’s reprimands.  Of course it hurts, sometimes so much he screams and cries with abandon, and naturally sometimes he bleeds so much that Ramsay has to order him to clean it up afterwards.  But also Reek knows the beatings and flaying make him better able to please his lord and sometimes, in the aftermath, Lord Ramsay will stoke his hair and kiss and soothe him and tell him how well his Reek takes whatever he deals out.

“Ohh.” Reek breathes softly.  His fingers are pressing at his scars, rubbing against the raised, pink flesh teasingly. The sensation is strange, and formerly unwelcome, but now his fingertips feel like they are trailing a line of bright, burning pleasure across his groin, like the hot knife that once cauterized the wound.

Reek continues to work at the area, grinding against the heel of his hand, trying hard to get the satisfaction he so desires.

The feeling of his hand against scar tissue is pleasurable, but it is not what Reek needs. He clenches the cheeks of his ass, trying to recall the feeling of Ramsay’s cock buried inside him. His current state of emptiness is most perturbing.

A moan escapes from Reek’s lips as he lets his hands fall back to his sides.

He wants Lord Ramsay’s attentions.  He _needs_ it.

The scratching of Ramsay’s quill on parchment pauses, as if his lord can sense Reek’s distress and frustration.

“Reek.” Lord Ramsay says, his tone relaxed and even, lifting his head and looking over his shoulder at his pet, “What are you doing over there?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but that's because I'll be posting another later today!  
> Enjoy! <3

“I’m-I’m sorry, m’lord.” Reek stammers quickly, “I was—nothing.  I’m sorry.”  Reek hangs his head, so Ramsay can’t see how red his cheeks have surely become.

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry.” Ramsay says.  His tone remains mild, but Reek knows the threat of violence is always lurking just below the surface.  Even so, Reek hesitates to respond, unsure of what to say.

He knows he must always be honest with his lord; Ramsay can always sniff out his lies, and anyway, what sort of pet would Reek be if he balked at telling Lord Ramsay the truth?  Not a very good pet, that’s for sure.  Not truly loyal at all.

Reek wants to be loyal, and good.  He wants nothing more in the world (except for Ramsay to take him hard and fast, right now).

“I… I just miss you, m’lord.”  Reek knows his face must be splotchy red right now, glowing with embarrassment. His pulse pounds in his ears so strongly he almost doesn’t catch Ramsay’s reply.

“I’m right here, Reek.  Why don’t you come over and join me?”

Reek’s heart soars, even as he questions if he has actually heard correctly. But Ramsay quirks an eyebrow at him expectantly and Reek knows the invitation is real.

“Thank you, m’lord, thank you, thank you.”  He grovels, turning over to fall onto his hands and knees and lowering his face to the floor to show his complete gratitude and submission. Reek is so wound up, just being welcomed closer to Ramsay nearly gives him the release he craves—but just nearly.

Hoping to stir his lord’s desire, Reek moves forward, crawling slowly, holding his head low to the ground and his ass high in what he hopes is an enticing position. His remaining fingers curl into the velvety soft carpet as Reek struggles to support the weight of his upper body.  The innumerable fibers of the rug whisper as Reek drags his knees across and forward.

The distance to Ramsay’s side is perhaps a mere twelve feet, but Reek is still panting from the effort of moving when Ramsay’s leather boots finally fill his vision.

“Hello, Reek.” Ramsay greets him, dropping a hand down lazily to give Reek’s head a scratch.  Reek presses into his lord’s touch and closes his eyes.  A low purring sound emanates from the back of his throat. Ramsay chuckles softly, withdrawing his hand.

Reek nudges his head against Ramsay’s knee, trying to urge his lord to touch him again.

But Ramsay only laughs again.  “Now, now.” He chides, “You really _must_ let me finish here, Reek.”

Although Lord Ramsay’s voice lilts playfully, Reek knows he must nevertheless obey. He drops his head to Ramsay’s boots and curls his body inward on the ground, resting at his lord’s feet like the obedient dog he always tries to be.  Ramsay’s laces dig into his cheek, but Reek doesn’t mind…


	4. Chapter 4

The last time Ramsay could remember writing a letter, the task had actually been enjoyable.  The letter had been the one to Balon Greyjoy, accompanying a very _special_ package.  This… this was much more tedious, though.

A letter to each of the major Northern household, and a few to lesser houses of significance to the Boltons, cordially inviting them to the joining of two great houses, through the marriage of Ramsay Bolton and Arya Stark.  His father’s orders.

At least, Ramsay reflected, he could now sign Ramsay _Bolton_ at the bottom of each page…

Letter writing is boring, but Reek is a constant source of amusement, and he is never far from Ramsay’s thoughts.  Even now, seemingly engrossed in writing, Ramsay is ever aware of his pet, who he can hear shifting around on the bed, probably trying in vain to find a position where some body part didn’t hurt.

There is a muffled thump.  The corners of Ramsay’s lips twitch up; it sounds like maybe his pet has fallen from the bed in his attempt to get comfortable.

Reek’s movements fall silent after that.  Ramsay returns his full attention to signing another letter—sometimes he almost starts writing _Snow_ instead of _Bolton_ —and setting parchment aside. As he selects another sheet and puts his quill to the page, Ramsay hears Reek shuffling around again.

He doesn’t move, or give any indication at all that he is aware of what his pet is doing. Ramsay always endeavors to display a conflicting mix of complete disinterest and inhuman hyper-awareness towards Reek—so much the better to keep him on his toes—or what remained of them.

Reek’s breathing has grown heavy.  Furtively, Ramsay sneaks a glance over his shoulder.

He needn’t be so cautious—Reek’s eyes are shut tight, his head lolling back against the bed.  His legs are spread as wide as any whore’s and his hands are busy between his legs.

Ramsay has touched that spoiled place before, but he has never seen—or made—Reek do it. Far from being humiliated by the space as usual, Reek is grinding his hips, thrusting against his hand as his fingers explore the dips and rises of the twisted scar.

Gods be good, his Reek must be as close to arousal as a man (hah!) in his situation can become.

Even as he can feel his own cock growing flushed with blood, Ramsay wonders what Reek is thinking about right now.  Is he remember another time, when he was still whole and whoring across the North?  Or is he thinking about Ramsay and the things they do together?

He should like very much to find out the answer.  And fortunately, Ramsay is _very_ good at getting his Reek to tell him things…

* * *

 

Reek moans.

Ramsay sneaks another glance at him.  His face is screwed up in an expression of anguish and lust.  Ramsay isn’t entirely unfamiliar with that look; he has caught it on his pet’s face with increasing frequency during their sessions in the dungeon or when Reek is being punished.

Ramsay draws in a deep, slow breath, mastering his face (and his cock).  He sets down his quill.

“Reek,” He says, looking over so his pet can see his face, “What are you doing over there?”

It’s very hard not to laugh at Reek’s expression.  He really looks quite guileless, yet dumb, as he stutters his answer.

“I’m-I’m sorry, m’lord. I was—nothing. I’m sorry.”  Reek drops his head to his chest.

Ramsay can see the embarrassment burning in his cheeks and Reek’s hands twist and turn at his sides, pressing into the carpet and then contracting into loose fists.

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry.” He tells Reek.  He knows he doesn’t need to say anything else.

Ramsay waits for Reek to correct his mistake.

“I… I just miss you, m’lord.”

Excitement swells in Ramsay’s chest.  This is better than he could have hoped for.  A stirred yet sexually stymied Reek, thinking of him!  Ramsay is pleased enough that he ignores that Reek has given him another non-answer.

He knows just how he is going to play this.

“I’m right here, Reek.  Why don’t you come over and join me?” Ramsay says.

From Reek’s expression, it looks like Ramsay had just offered him a full course meal, real clothes and invited him to take a seat on the Iron Throne while he was at it. Although at this point, Ramsay thinks with pleasure, Reek might just refuse all that for a chance to suck on his lord’s cock.

He can’t imagine feeling this much pride in anything, even the sons he will surely get on his future lady wife.

“Thank you, m’lord, thank you, thank you.”  Reek gushes.  So sweet.

Ramsay watches Reek moving towards him on hands and knees, his ass thrust in the air and wiggling provocatively from side to side.  It’s really very cute, if a bit insolent, the way his pet thinks he can move Ramsay to act the way he wants. 

“Hello, Reek.” Ramsay says in greeting when Reek stops crawling at his feet. He brings a hand down to idly pet Reek’s head.  He grazes his nails across a flaking scalp and runs his fingers through matted white hair. Reek presses into his touch and Ramsay withdraws to leave him wanting more.

Reek nuzzles at his knee, so insistent, so needy…

Ramsay lets Reek hear his laughter this time. “Now, now.” He scolds, “You really _must_ let me finish here, Reek.”

Reek settles at Ramsay’s feet (he really does act very much like a dog sometimes), resting his head on Ramsay’s boots.

For the time being, Ramsay decides to allow it.  He really _does_ need to take care of these letters.  And anyway, the game has only just begun.


	5. Chapter 5

Reek tries to sit still, really he does, but it’s just so _hard_ right now.  He knows he could do it if he were good and thoroughly fucked by Ramsay _first_.  He feels a whine rising in his throat and has to fight to bite back the sound. Instead, he rubs his cheek against Ramsay’s boot then ducks away quickly, anticipating a kick.

Ramsay doesn’t move.  He seems as still as a statute, except that Reek can hear his hand moving over paper above and the scratching of the quill and a scraping on the desk as Ramsay moves his inkwell closer.  If Ramsay is going to ignore him, maybe it’s okay if he just…

Reek sits up as best he can under the desk.  Ramsay is wearing fine black trousers, the cuffs tucked into the tops of his boots.  Tentatively, Reek reaches out to touch one soft pant leg.  Ramsay does nothing.  Reek studies the contrast of his stark white skin against the dark material. Slowly, the joints of his remaining fingers creaking, Reek tightens his grip, until he can feel Ramsay’s shin against his palm.  He scoots closer.

Emboldened by Ramsay’s disregard for his activities, Reek draws his other hand up and places it on Ramsay’s knee.  He inches closer again, until he can rest his face on Ramsay’s thigh. He presses his lips together and places a kiss just below his lord’s hip.  Reek’s hands are busy rubbing up and down Ramsay’s leg. He kisses Ramsay’s thigh again and then once more.

Reek presses as much of his body as he can against his lord’s leg.  The toe of one of Ramsay’s boots bumps against Reek’s still-sensitive scar and he gasps in surprise.  It feels so _good_.

He pushes his hips down and forward, so he can feel the friction against his scar again. Before Reek realizes he is doing it, he is thrusting against Ramsay, like a dog in heat.  Even once he notices, he is beyond caring, beyond shame, caring only to be consumed by the pleasure he hadn’t known he could still feel.

* * *

 

At his desk, Ramsay listens to his pet breathing heavily as he writhes against Ramsay’s leg. His Reek certainly knows what he wants.  Too bad for him, Ramsay is not so easily persuaded; especially when it is within his power to give Reek what he is clearly craving so badly.

He lets Reek continue in his attempt to pleasure himself, dragging that disgusting scar (it’s beautiful, to Ramsay) against Ramsay’s foot.  He wants to see how far his pet will push things.

When Ramsay feels two fingers brush against his cock through his pants, he pushes the chair backward so quickly Reek spills out from under the desk into a heap.

Leaning forward, Ramsay grabs Reek by the hair, bringing them face-to-face. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Ramsay demands.

It’s very hard to keep a straight face when he so badly wants to smile.  When he had taken Reek into his bed, he had no idea he’s end up with such a filthy little whore.  Of course, he had _aspired_ to break Reek down so completely that he’d give himself over to Ramsay willingly, but Ramsay had never imagined that Reek would be so quick to start asking for it when _he_ wanted it.

He just had to make sure Reek remembered who was in charge here.

Reek is trying to avert his gaze, but Ramsay tightens his grip on Reek’s hair and gives him a shake and his eyes return to Ramsay’s.

“Did I give you permission to touch my cock?  To touch me _at all_?” He asks.

“No m’lord.” Reek admits, twisting in Ramsay’s grasp.  Ramsay sighs and backhands Reek lazily so he keeps still. Ramsay isn’t sure if the squirming is more from arousal or fear.

“No, I didn’t give you permission.” Ramsay continues.  “And what did you do?”

“I-I touched your cock.” Reek confesses, tears welling up in his eyes.  Ramsay is pleased, but Reek isn’t done spilling his sins yet.

“Is that all?” He inquires, raising an eyebrow.

Reek understands and Ramsay feels that sense of pride in his creature again. “No m’lord.”

“Then tell me.” Ramsay says, his voice soft and inviting.  He relaxes his hold on Reek’s hair and strokes that dirty face with his thumb.

“I was trying to… pleasure myself against you, like some common bitch, m’lord. I was trying to seduce you, so that you might fuck me, because I need your cock, I need it _so bad_ …” Reek’s voice trails off and he shudders as tears begin to fall, forming wet spots on Ramsay’s pant leg.

“I see.” Ramsay says, keeping his face blank, “And what am I to do about that?”

“Should I throw you on the bed and fuck you?  Or should I do it here, on the floor, since you’re so eager? I could tease you with my cock, slam it into you and then take it out… _so… slow…_ ” Ramsay drops his voice down to a whisper.

Reek shudders again and wrings his hands.  “Please m’lord, please use me… however-however you see fit.”

Ramsay grins at that.  _Ohh, his Reek… So dumb, so precious, and so very much fun._

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Reek.” Ramsay says gleefully, sitting back in his chair, “I’m going to do none of those things.”

* * *

 

Reek gapes at his lord, too stunned to even cry.

“I-I don’t understand, m’lord.” He says.  He’s prepared to beg.

“Don’t you?” Ramsay taunts, “You’re a selfish, ungrateful whore, Reek. Trying to _use me_ for your own satisfaction.  How dare you!  You think you deserve my cock after that little performance?

Reek is stupid for not realizing.  His lord is right; he _is_ ungrateful, terribly ungrateful.  Lord Ramsay always knows what is truly in his heart.

Reek is so conflicted; his shoulders hitch as he begins to sob.  He wants to be good; he tries so hard, but it seems he can’t help himself this time.  Everything he thinks to say seems dreadfully manipulative, to his lord Ramsay, who has only been kind and fair with him.

He drops his head and is grateful when Lord Ramsay doesn’t force his face up again. Reek stares hard at the ground through the blur of tears and all the while, his groin aches.

Reek feels Ramsay’s hand in his hair, fingers working at massaging the place behind his ear.  “Reek, look at me.” Ramsay says softly.  His anger has stilled and his voice is gentle, comforting.

Reek raises his head shyly.  He looks at Ramsay pleadingly, willing him to understand his predicament. 

Ramsay draws his hand from Reek’s hair and runs his thumb over Reek’s moist lips. Dutifully, Reek opens his mouth and Ramsay inserts two fingers.  Reek sucks and can’t help imagining that it’s Ramsay’s cock he’s tasting.

“Is my little bitch in heat?  Is that it?” Ramsay asks.

Reek hums an affirmative around Ramsay’s fingers.

* * *

 

Ramsay couldn’t be more thrilled with his little Reek, not that he’d ever tell _him_ that.  Reek is still sucking enthusiastically on Ramsay’s fingers, his mouth warm and wet.  It’s difficult not to shove Reek to the ground and claim him.

But Ramsay is a patient man.  He had waited for his birthright, he had waited for Reek to shed the ridiculous shell of Theon Greyjoy and he could wait a bit longer now.

He isn’t finished with his scolding.

“Back under the desk.” He orders, removing his fingers from Reek’s mouth, “Let’s see if you can’t think of someone else’s pleasure for more than five minutes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh sorry this has taken so long, writers' block and life stuff got in the way.  
> Enjoy though! <3

Reek tucks himself back under the desk, bumping his head in his haste.  Ramsay continues, “That might have felt good, if it were anyone else.  You’ve gotten my fine trousers all filthy.”  Reek whimpers.  His lord can’t mean that, can he?  He likes his Reek dirty and smelly.

Ramsay is chuckling darkly to himself and loosening his laces; Reek quickly forgets the insult as excitement prickles at his scar and pools in his belly. A shiver runs down Reek’s spine, his throat works and his mouth feels exceptionally wet.

Ramsay draws out his cock, giving it a few perfunctory strokes.  It’s very hard not to touch.  Reek swallows hard and another shiver twitches through his shoulders.

“Hands behind your back.” Ramsay orders, “Keep them there.”

Reek obeys, holding his right wrist loosely with his left hand.  He is determined to please, to give Ramsay no reason to hurt him, to earn his reward like a good pet (he still can’t help hoping that reward will be Ramsay’s cock).

Cock in hand, Ramsay pushes his chair towards Reek.  “In your mouth.” He says.

Reek lips his lips hungrily and takes Ramsay’s cock in his mouth, drawing it in, all the way to the hilt, his tongue passing over Ramsay’s thick length greedily. He feels Ramsay’s hand on his head and tries to make sure he is steady on his knees, expecting Ramsay to start thrusting in and out of his mouth.

Instead, Ramsay hooks his fingers under Reek’s collar and pulls him off, until Reek is sucking at just the tip of him. 

“That’s all you get for now.” Ramsay informs him, “ _If_ you can behave and keep my cock in your mouth—just like this—while I finish up here, I’ll entertain the idea of giving you what you need. Do you understand, Reek?”

Reek nods, he removes his lips from Ramsay’s cocks, gasping, to answer properly. “Yes m’lord.”

“Good.” Ramsay says, giving him a curt nod and a fleeting smile.

Reek returns his lips to Ramsay’s cock, careful to take no more than half his lord’s length in his mouth.

* * *

Ramsay is pleasantly surprised; for the moment, Reek gamely holds Ramsay’s cock in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue only a little bit. Nearly done writing, Ramsay takes his time now, purposing testing Reek’s patience. What kind of game would it be… what kind of master would he be… if he didn’t try to challenge his sweet Reek?

Ramsay can feel Reek’s inner conflict; when Reek’s restraint is slipping, he sucks hard, flicking the head of Ramsay’s cock with his tongue.  Then he regains control and pulls back, until his lips are just closed around the tip.

If he concentrates on other things, Ramsay can keep his cock at half-mast. It would never do to let Reek know how much he enjoys this. 

His pet is loosing his battle to control himself; Ramsay can hear him shifting around, can feel his tongue on the tip of his cock, trying so hard to entice his master.

This has gone on for long enough.

Ramsay pushes back his chair, his cock falling from Reek’s lips.  The poor, sweet, broken thing tries to chase after it, but Ramsay’s hand on his head stills him.  He strokes Reek’s hair ever so slowly, careful not to catch his fingers in the tangles.  Reek leans into the touch, closes his eyes and moans.

“You did very well.” Ramsay says tenderly, “Would my Reek like a reward?”

Reek nods pitifully.  Tears of relief glisten in his eyes.

“Up here, sweetling.”  Ramsay pats his lap.

The same Reek who once flinched at Ramsay’s every movement now scrambles into his arms. _Success is so sweet._   Ramsay cradles his Reek close, caressing the soft swell of his ass with one hand. He leans down to suck a bruise into Reek’s throat.

Reek gasps. “M’lord—please—“

Ramsay quiets him with a kiss, shifting Reek’s fragile body until he is straddling Ramsay’s lap.  When he finally pulls away, he asks, “What do you want, my Reek?”

In answer, Reek whines and presses himself against Ramsay’s chest, the mutilated space between his legs brushing against Ramsay’s still-exposed cock.

“You want this?” Ramsay asks softly, taking Reek by one wrist and guiding his hand down to touch Ramsay’s member.  He is fully erect now, and so ready, but he keeps the game going.

“Yes m’lord.” Reek manages. 

He is shaking with need.  Reek shifts against Ramsay so his scar bumps against his lord’s length.  The feeling is still strange, but he doesn’t shy from it.  He whines and writhes.

“You want this?” His lord asks.  Ramsay draws one disfigured hand down to his cock.

“Yes m’lord.”

Ramsay is hard and so thick.  It’s difficult for Reek to grip his lord, but he makes a valiant effort.  For once it’s easy to ignore the pounding in his phantom fingers.

Ramsay’s hand travels to the cleft of Reek’s ass.  His fingers poke and prod before he settles on massaging the place just above Reek’s tailbone.  Reek whines again.

“This isn’t enough, is it, Reek?” Ramsay asks.  His voice is hushed and his other hand grips the back of Reek’s neck. “Tell me what you want, sweetling.”


End file.
